


Osprey - Ch. 17 Prologue - "Deal With The Devil"

by bookofsecrets



Series: Osprey Side Stories [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coercion, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fade Tongue, Hawke is a sadist, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Multi, Peer Pressure, Threesome - F/M/M, sodomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookofsecrets/pseuds/bookofsecrets
Summary: Companion piece to Osprey. An ostensible prologue to Chapter 17.Awakened one night during the Deep Roads expedition, Carver is solicited by Isabela to join her and Garrett Hawke for a kinky drinking game. The fun quickly turns sinister when Carver suspects Garrett's true intentions...





	Osprey - Ch. 17 Prologue - "Deal With The Devil"

 I wake to something moving furtively inside the tent. I can't see through the inky darkness, but the feeling lurks oppressively. I listen to the gentle but constant drumming of water hitting the outside of the canvas, blinking several times to prove to myself that I’m awake. For several long beats, there is only my own breathing and the sound of water dripping from stalactites. I’m alone, I decide, feeling a little silly for even imagining I might not be. The expedition has me jumpy. Being trapped underground in darkspawn-corrupted tunnels will do that to a sane person.

 But now that I’m awake it’s doubtful I’ll be able to easily go back to sleep, as hot and uncomfortable as it is. Anders didn't offer any warnings about how humid the Deep Roads can get; almost a week below the surface, rivers of lava have become a common feature. And the tent's cheap canvas offers the same amount of protection as a potato sack, leaving my hair plastered to my head and my entire body slick with sweat.

 Discarding all clothing had been a necessity, but hardly helped. I lace my hands beneath my head and stretch out on my back, trying to get comfortable on a bedroll two-feet too short for a man my height. _I think Bodahn gave me one of the dwarfs’ bedrolls._

 As I’m closing my eyes, I have that feeling again. Like there’s something in here with me. Unmoving, I scan the dark reproachfully. There’s nothing to see, of course, not even my own nose. Yet I wouldn’t put it past Varric or my brother to single me out for a prank. After several minutes I tire of the vigil.  _They've got me paranoid. I'm starting to do Garrett's tormenting for him._ Growing drowsy, I relax back on the bedroll. That’s when a hand clamps over my mouth.

  Startled, my body jerks, instinctively wanting to sit up so I can fight off my attacker. But their hand pushes the back of my head back toward the ground. Their weight drops onto my stomach, pinning me. “ _Shhhh_.” A feminine voice. And there’s only one woman on the Tethras & Hawke Expedition.

  I stop resisting. As I expected, those strong, slender fingers slip away. “Isabela?” I whisper, bewildered. Her thighs squeeze my waist responsively, the bare skin contact making me instantly aware of how naked I am beneath her. “You can’t be here,” I scold her, keeping my voice lowered, my hands off her. “If Garrett knew…” The rest of my warning freezes in my throat as she starts kissing my neck. The tips of her long, wavy hair tickle my skin when her head moves.

  She pauses long enough to speak into my ear. "It's okay, Carver."

 Despite being sweltered, her warm breath sends a shiver racing down my back. “How?” I demand moodily. It’s not a secret she’s my brother’s woman. Everyone has to listen to their jungle-noise fucking every time we pitch camp. The hirelings joke it’s the only reason Garrett brought the Rivaini. Guiltily, I've caught myself wondering if it could be true.

 She kisses my neck again instead of answering, scraping with her teeth. This time when I shiver, it travels as far as my cock, zapping it to life. Her mouth moves lower, lips skimming down my chest. I feel an aggressive flick of her tongue, assaulting one of my nipples. _What the_ \-- I reflexively look down, knowing exactly where she’s hovering even though I can’t see her, and feel her mouth close around the small nub. The sensation is strange; no one has ever put their mouth on me there before. Then she _sucks,_ causing me to jolt upright.  “Are you drunk?” I ask accusingly, not trying to conceal my disappointment.

 To me, it’s obvious the Rivaini has slipped into the wrong tent.

 “Whenever I’m not sober,” she quips, and I can hear the devious smile shaping those words. The smell of rum spills across my face as she leans in to nuzzles me, her nose and mouth rubbing against my cheek. Damn it, I want to touch her. Hold her. But I keep my hands at my sides until Isabela roots out my earlobe and takes it into her mouth. This time when she sucks and nibbles, I’m unwilling to rebuke her.

“We’re playing a game,” she says after combing her teeth over my earlobe, then letting it go. Her softly panting breath moves across my face until it beats against my mouth. Her fingers stroke the sides of my neck. “A drinking game.”

 “You and who?” I ask sullenly, knowing the answer.

 “It’d be so much fun with three people,” Isabela says, the end of her nose touching mine. “Please, Carver? He said it’s okay. You can play with us.”

 When I start to answer, Isabela pushes her tongue into my mouth, kissing me deeply. Her fingers harden against my neck to stop me from pulling back. But I don’t even try to. Against my better judgment, I kiss her back, hotly. Self-preservation be damned, I let myself touch her; my hands slide up her back, feeling the thin tunic clinging to her voluptuous body, then coast down her waistline to squeeze the flesh of her hips. She rolls her hips forward, egging me on.

  The kiss is long and smothering. My heart is hammering in my chest before we break for air. As I catch my breath, I rest my hands on her lower back. My ramrod erection nestles against the curve of her ass as she sits on my lap. “You said it’s a game?” I ask her warily.

 She combs my hair with her fingers, massaging my scalp. Her touch causes my head to fog; to go from longing for this woman from afar to being suddenly touched and kissed by her has me completely disoriented. It feels like a dream. “Mm. I promise you’ll like it.”

 “What do you do?”

 “You take turns daring each other to do things.” She kisses me again, slowly, leisurely. It makes my heart race. “Fun things.”

 I can’t help but frown once she pulls back. “And if my ass of a brother wants me to do something I refuse to?” Because that’s exactly what he’ll do. I’d bet my share of the expedition profits Garrett will want to embarrass me in front of Isabela.

 “If he does, you can end the game by forfeit There is a penalty, though. But that’s also part of the fun.”

 I still hesitate, finding it hard to believe Garrett wants my company. He must be drunk off his ass. But the reward ( _Isabela!_ )  far outweighs the potential awkwardness of playing a game of favors with my own brother. Isabela impatiently wiggles her ass against me at my prolonged silence.

 “It’s harmless fun, Carver!”

 “Fine.” I lean in and boldly kiss what I find, which happens to be the space above her collarbone. “Since you’re asking so nicely.”

 Isabela laughs throatily. She reaches behind her and gives my ramrod cock a playful tug. The touch makes every muscle in my groin tighten. _Yes, fuck, yes._ Maybe this could be fun after all. After she slips off my lap, I grab my pants on the ground. She chuckles at the sounds of the rustling fabric. “Leave them.”

 “Really?” Well, it is going to be _that_ sort of game, I guess. Still, I clutch the trousers. The non-lust-fueled part of my brain warns against going into my brother’s tent undefended; if this turns out to be a prank and they laugh at me for being so gullible… My pride might not recover.

 Isabela’s hand finds me, touches my cheek, thumbs the damp hair curling around my ear. “You have nothing to be worried about. Trust me.”

 I sigh and let the pants go, then follow her outside the tent. The campfire still burns inside a small ring of volcanic stones. The green flames hiss as beads of water steadily dripping from the ceiling are instantly evaporated by the heat. For a few moments, we stand in the fire’s sickly-colored glow. A niggling feeling that something is watching us prompts me to scan the darkness.

 “See something?” Isabela asks curiously.

 I shrug, then grin at her. “Ghosts, maybe.”

 “Spooky!” Her eyes reflect the otherworldly green of the fire.

 Seeing Isabela in the light makes my pulse beat against my skin like a drum. My eyes drop to the cleavage constrained by the lacing on the front of her tunic. She smirks at me, reaching for my hand. “Come on, before the night gets away from us.”

 My eyes fall on an isolated tent up ahead, pitched far away from the fire, effused in a sinister red glow. A part of me recoils when I see it, but Isabela’s grip is strong and we arrive in moments. “Knock knock,” Isabela announces to the tent flap, then shoves it aside and ducks in. I follow quickly after her, anxious to not be left behind.

 Garrett is inside. He sits near the back of the tent, legs crossed. He’s wearing an unbuttoned tunic, exposing his chest of hair which tapers into a downy trail over his stomach and vanishes into the shadow pooled in his lap. A large bottle is sitting on the ground in front of him. Empty bottles lay sideways all over the tent; _yeah, they’re piss-drunk alright_.

 Garrett looks up when we enter. He blinks in surprise when he sees me behind Isabela. I hold onto my breath. _This is it, the punchline._  “I can’t believe it,” Garrett says with a spreading grin.

 I use my hands to conceal my manhood. “I--uh--she said you--” _Dammit, I knew this was too good to be true._

 “Hawke doubted you’d agree to come,” Isabela tells me with a teasing smile, sitting down on an empty bedroll. “As if someone could resist my _sizeable_ charms.”

 I look between them, not sure if it’s really safe. Garrett waves me closer, still grinning. “Sit down, Carver. Here, next to me. Get him something to drink, sweetheart, or he isn’t going to relax.”

 Isabela pours a cup of strong dwarven ale--I recognize the bottle from Bertrand’s private stash--and pushes it into my hand as I fumble, half-bent, over to the vacant bedroll adjacent to my brother and sit on the lumpy padding. “You wouldn’t let my brother have his pants?” Garrett gripes at his lover.

 “No one else is wearing them,” Isabela counters saucily. True enough; tunics is all either of them wears. The Rivaini plucks at the lacing confining her breasts. “Give me a moment to even things.” As the lacing begins to relax, the front of her tunic spreads apart, and her supple cleavage spills out.

 I gulp down the ale, not even tasting it; my eyes are glued to Isabela as she works at pulling the tunic over her head. Her full breasts rock and jiggle as they’re gradually worked free. I unconsciously wet my lips when a dark nipple peeks out.

 “Did Isabela explain the rules?” Garrett asks, ignoring her display. Instead of chastising me for ogling his woman as I would expect, he’s friendly. Eager, almost, for my answer.

 Isabela gets the tunic over her head, allowing her hair to cascade back down around her shoulders. Her large breasts rest on her ribs, the nipples stiff. She’s already the most beautiful woman I’ve seen, but the red glow from Garrett’s staff makes her look even more exotic. “Yeah,” I mumble, feeling myself blush when Isabela sees me watching and winks.

 “And you agree to it?” Garrett clarifies. “All of it?”

 “Sounds simple enough. Isabela mentioned a penalty for losing?”

 “You just have to answer a question. And it has to be the truth.”

 “That’s it?”

 “Bride Above, Carver. So skeptical!” He laughs. It’s an honest, belly-laugh; the kind Varric can pull out of him with a cleverly worded joke. He’s in a rare good mood.

 I try lowering my guard; I even manage to smile. “I’m just not… I’ll try harder. To have fun.”

  The Rivani grins. “Very, very _hard_ , I hope."

 Garrett chuckles at her joke, then takes a drink from the bottle in front of him. Isabela leans over her bedroll to take the empty cup out of my hand. Her breasts hang freely. I want to feel them in my hands, squeeze them, see if they’re as supple as they look. Isabela refills the cup and then passes it back to me as if nothing here is out of the ordinary. We could very well be sharing a table at the Hanged Man. I gulp down this cup too, not pausing to taste it. Already I feel the first cup spreading through me, calming my nerves.

 Isabela’s mouth curls against her cup as she takes a drink, her eyes never straying from me. I feel my ears begin to burn from the attention. Justifiably distracted, I don’t right away notice Garrett offering his bottle to me. I accept it with my free hand and take a drink straight from its neck. “ _Guh_ ,” I make a sour face after I swallow. The taste is metallic.

 Garrett’s teeth flash at me in an amused, toothy smile. “That bad?”

 “it’s foul,” I complain, wiping my mouth. "What is it?"

 “It’s an acquired taste,” he agrees, putting the bottle away in favor of another, unopened one.

 Isabela grins. “I’ve swallowed worse.”

 They laugh, so I join in, even knowing how nervous it sounds. “Who starts?” I ask.

 Garrett yanks the cork free using his teeth, then spits it across the tent. “I will.”

 The Rivaini perks. “Dare me, Hawke!”

 Garrett catches my eye as he takes a swig from the bottle. “I dare Isabela to sit in my lap.” With no hesitation, the Rivaini spins around and plants her ass in front of him, in the space between his knees. I finally get a clear view of the patch of dark hair between her legs and feel a flutter in my stomach. “Get more comfortable, sweetheart,” Garrett murmurs, his large hands cupping her waist. He gently tugs until she obligingly rests her back against his chest.

 “So thoughtful.” Isabela opens her hand and he passes the bottle. “My turn, now.” She takes a drink, her eyes finding mine. “I dare Carver to kiss me.”

  Maybe it's their nonchalance rubbing off, or the innocence of the request, but I’m feeling confident. I shift onto my hands and knees and crawl across the few feet separating us. Garrett absently brushes his lips along the curve of Isabela’s neck as he watches me approach them, a glint of something in his eye. Possessiveness, maybe? He doesn’t move or object, though, when I lean in and capture Isabela’s lips with my own. The Rivaini moans softly before filling my mouth with her tongue. It’s warm, welcoming. Balancing on one hand, I cup my other hand against the side of her face and deepen the kiss. My fingers feel her jaw working as she kisses back. Arousal unfurls within me, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

_Maker, this is hot._

 After a while, Garrett deliberately clears his throat. Isabela groans when I break away. Her lips are dark and wet. Mine probably too. “Let Carver have his turn,” Garrett rumbles, his voice thick. He plants a kiss to Isabela’s neck when she whines.

 I take the bottle and stare at it. “Who do I dare?”

 “Isabela, or me.”

 Isabela smiles cockily. “He’ll pick me.”

 Garrett rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, that’s the drawback of playing with siblings.”

 “I can think of a few things we can all do together,” the Rivaini says, winking at me.

 I drink from the bottle to hide my reaction from her. The rum is spicy. “I dare Isabela to kiss me,” I say.

 Isabela’s lips draw forward in a pout. “But we already--”

 “Below the waist,” I add, sinking down and sitting on my haunches.

  "Clever," Garrett chortles.

  I’m trembling faintly with nervous excitement as Isabela, smirking, bends forward--Maker, she’s flexible--and without departing from Garrett’s lap, she slides into the space of my own. She doesn't hesitate, just gives my cock's engorged head a slow, teasing kiss. My heart races as I watch her. She swirls her tongue there, pausing only to suckle the tip when a bead of my arousal appears, eventually pulling away with a thin string of precum attached to her pink tongue. Good thing I'm sitting; I feel weak already. She lowers her head to the base of my shaft and begins to suck and kiss a path upward. My body throbs from the pleasant sensation, making me so hard that my cock aches with need, the need to be sheathed.

 Garrett grins at my reactions, his own arousal evident. I try not to look at him but he’s _right_ _there_ and is impossible to ignore. Isabela seems to be working at making me forget, though, as she begins to moan lavisciously. The lewd sounds of her wet mouth on my skin make my entire face flush, but I like it. I wonder what other sounds she might make for me. Despite our audience, I lift my hips, silently begging her to take me into her mouth. Even though I might just explode if she did.

 “I wish Anders gave head like her,” Garrett admits with a wistful sigh, drawing my attention back to him. “He always complains I give him a jaw ache.”

 “You and Anders?” I look up, face scrunched. “Brother, that’s revolting.”

  _Wait… I feel like I knew that about them already…_

Garrett quickly reaches over to take the bottle out of my hand, which I had forgotten I was still gripping. Isabela groans when his hips bump up against her backside. “My turn,” he says, sitting back down. His tunic flutters, giving me a clear glimpse of a stout cock, fully erect. In my youth, I'd occasionally see his soft prick after a bath, but I never particularly cared to compare until he started using his endowment on Isabela. The perverse curiosity causes my eyes to linger a moment too long, but long enough for Garrett to notice. He catches my eye and grins. “I dare Carver to share Isabela’s mouth with me.”

 “What?” The word just falls out. Isabela, however, makes a delighted sound. She sits up on her knees, grinning deviously. Garrett shrugs out of his unbuttoned tunic and gets up, likewise rising on his knees. “How--How could she even--” My breath sharpens as Isabela wraps her hand around my shaft and begins stroking. She’s already pumping Garrett with the other and soon finds a tandem rhythm.

  "Sweet thing, let me show you how," she coos.

 “Don’t back out now, Carver,” Garrett chides.

 I edge closer, sidling on my knees until I’m hip to hip with Garrett. The connection to my brother makes me inwardly shudder, yet a thrill runs through me as Isabela begins kissing and licking. She sucks greedily on the head of my cock, then switches to Garrett, continuing back and forth until we’re both swollen and glistening. Then she guides us past her lips. We’re too big a fit for her to throat us, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. My brother’s hot flesh rubbing against my own seems perverse, but I can’t deny it feels good. I lean my head back, closing my eyes, and let out a pleasant groan.

  Still, I can't completely shake the feeling we’re committing a sin. The guilt seeps into me until I have to look at Garrett to see if he's experiencing any second thoughts. “Don’t be embarrassed,” Garrett says when he meets my eye. His tone is reassuring. “We’re just brothers bonding.”

  “You don’t want to be friends with me,” I say, finding absurdity in his claim.

  "Do you want to be friends with me?" Garrett broaches. He drops his eyes to Isabela with, who switches to vigorously stroking our cocks when she breaks for air. He grins down at her. "I'm generous with my friends."

  I don't lose my focus, not that Isabela's new ministrations aren't tempting. “What do you actually want from me, Brother? Why am I really here?” I should have considered his motives much earlier. But I was only thinking with my cock. The sudden question catches him off-guard, but he quickly smoothes over his surprise with a smirk.

  “Carver, be smart. Is this the time to be picking fights?”

   Isabela gives each of us a quick kiss on our tips. “My turn, boys.”

    We play a few more rounds. Suck this, kiss that. I never do get an answer from Garrett, which just causes my apprehension to grow. He really didn't like it when I questioned him if his shift in mood is anything to judge by. I think he’s trying to punish me. I’m not sure for what, aside from being a smart-mouth brat. But I can tell he's trying to find my limit, so he can shove me past it. “Carver, I dare you. Hold Isabela down.”

 I look at Garrett uncertainly. Or rather, hoping I misunderstood. “What do you mean?”

 “What it sounds like,” he says mockingly. “Grab her wrists. Yes, like that.” He straddles Isabela below her chest. She wheezes as his weight settles. He grabs a fistful of her hair.

  “Ow,” she whines.

  I feel uneasy as I keep her arms pinned arms above her head.

   “You're fine,” Garrett says, then uses his grip to yank her head forward, thrusting himself into her mouth. He rolls his hips, sliding the member between her lips. Her breasts rock as he picks up the pace. “More,” Garrett murmurs to her, tugging on her hair. “Take it. All of it. Show my brother what you can do.” He braces his other hand behind her head before shoving forward to cram the final inches down her throat.

 Her wrists tug and pull as she struggles to adjust to him, forcing me to tighten my grip and push more of my weight down on her arms. Her fingers curl into her palms, biting the skin. The struggling makes me uncomfortable. “Garrett--”

 “Keep her still,” Garrett growls, breathing raggedly. My heart races as I keep holding her down and watch him fuck her face with no regard for how she squirms and bucks beneath him. If anything, he seems to enjoy this. Even my own discomfort; he looks up often to check on me, to make sure I’m watching.

 “Garrett, let her breathe,” I plead, disliking the desperate sounds she's making.

 He seems to heed me, pausing to catch his breath. When he slides out of Isabela’s mouth, strings of saliva connect his cock to her abused lips. She take a loud gulp of air. “Good girl,” he murmurs, almost tenderly. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he says, slinking back to kneel outside her legs.

 “Fuck me,” she gasps, rubbing her thighs together. “Someone, fuck me.”  

 Garrett grins at me. “I’ll hold her down this time.”

 “No!” I say, repulsed by his offer. I let go of her wrists, realizing I still held them. “No...It’s getting late. We should… I should probably leave you two alone. To finish up.” Honestly, I feel queasy after what he had me do. Isabela seems fine with it, but I can’t shake off the feeling I helped Garrett do something despicable. I can’t imagine doing the same thing to her. _No. That’s not true._ I _can_ imagine it. And the temptation scares me.

 “You don’t have a choice,” Garrett points out. “We have an agreement. Now fuck her, or I will.”

 My face burns in defiant anger. “You’re sick, Garrett. I don't want to play with you anymore.”

 “But I’m not done playing with you.”

  "Too bad." I try to get off my knees and stand. My legs don’t obey. I try again, but fail to even twitch a muscle. “What--” My eyes widen. “What’s wrong with me?”

 “You’re bound by the rules,” Garrett explains simply. “If you want to quit, you’ll have to wait for your turn.”

 I can’t believe this. “You cast a spell on me?”

 He slides a finger between Isabela’s legs. Then two. She moans. “Wet," he says. "Good."

  "Hurry." She writhes on the floor. "Hawke. Please." Her husky voice sends a pang of longing through me. In a moment of weakness, I wonder if I'm making the right choice. She wants this, one of us, and it could be me inside of her. It could be my name she'll moan.

 “Free me,” I demand, my anger burning through my lust. “And stop this.” I struggle to move. My helplessness stokes my fury to a new height. “Maker help me, Garrett, I’m going to bust your face for this.”

 He slides his fingers free and looks up to sneer at my threat. “You’ll do nothing. You won’t even remember this happened.”

 “What are you talking about?” I growl. Garrett ignores me, bending down to nose Isabela’s sex. She lifts her hips with a whimper. He cups her ass with his hands to hold her hips aloft and opens his mouth. I can’t even look away as he begins pleasuring her. Isabela howls as he laps between her folds and screams when he slips his fingers inside her again and starts pumping. “Stop!” I demand, but my anger is impotent, powerless; I'm embarrassed to watch them, to see Isabela in the throes of ecstasy and oblivious to my distress.

  Garrett finally pulls his mouth away, but only when he's made it clear that it is his choice. “Do you want me to stop, Isabela?”

  “No!” Isabela sobs, her fingers curling into his hair. She tugs, trying to pull him back in.

  "Isabela," I say, "Garrett is using magic. Tell him to stop. Please, if you tell him--"

  "Hawke," she groans, desperately running her hands over her tits. "Fuck me already!"

  Garrett smirks up at me. I clench my teeth, hating him. “You put a spell on her.”

  “Ha! You give her too much credit.” He pushes himself up. “Turn over, sweetheart.” Isabela rolls over eagerly, onto her hands and knees, facing me. Our eyes meet. I can't deny its desire I see writ in her face, lust darkening her eyes. “She’s a slut, Carver. It’s that simple.”

  "Don't call her that." I look at her, pained by Garrett's words, but she seems to see right through me. Until she notices my cock, bared to her and within reach. She wraps her hand firmly around me and to my shame I'm rocked by the pleasure of that touch.

   He chuckles. “What do you call that, then? A whore?”

   He grabs her ample ass and spreads her cheeks to expose her slit, then begins to rock his cock against her sex, coating himself with her nectar until his shaft glistens in the sinister light. “I fucked her the same night we met. Four, five times?” Isabela needily grinds against him, uttering faint curses. “I thought she’d never get enough of me. But then…” He frowns. “Anders saw you together in the ancient thaig. How long had you two been sneaking behind my back?”

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say as a queer, unsettling feeling creeps over me. Broken columns, surrounded by veins of lyrium. A strange idol. The pictures flash through my mind in a haze of half-remembering. “I’ve never touched her before tonight.”

  The red light pulses, making the shadows in the tent writhe in an ugly dance. “You always covet what I have,” Garrett says without looking at me. He grabs himself at the root and pushes inside Isabela. She moans, loud and long until he’s hilted. I bite my lip as I’m forced to watch, and receive the stuttering strokes of her hand, flicks of her tongue. “Just look at you.” His gaze travels my body. I'm blushing, every inch of my skin burning as his eyes rake me. His gaze settles on my erection. I can't move my hand to conceal that I'm still hard, as much as I try to. “Judging me, when you’re like that. You want this. Her. You want to be me. Always have.” He begins thrusting, wringing an erotic cry from Isabela, who releases my cock just so she can dig her fingernails into the floor, trying to anchor herself as Garrett roughly brings their bodies together. The relentless slap of his balls meeting her slick entrance is all that breaks through the sounds of our breathing.

  “Stop talking, Garrett,” I speak through my gritted teeth. “Finish your turn.”

  Garrett laughs. A grotesque, evil sound. I can't take it. I gather everything I have to spit on his face. He jerks back, shocked as if I’d managed to punch him. I watch with satisfaction as he touches the spit tangled over his beard. His eyes narrow at me dangerously. “Hm. Thank you, Brother. She’ll need it.” He gathers the strings of saliva and then lowers his hand, sliding his touch against her, wiping his fingers over the tiny entrance between her cheeks.

  My throat tightens. “Garrett! You’ll hurt her.”

 Garrett stares at me coldly. "This is your fault, baby brother. Watch her face and know your insolence has done this to her." He pulls out from her pussy, then begins grinding his cock against the entrance to her ass. Isabela groans, Her groans quickly give way to grunts of pain as he squeezes the head inside. As he rocks harder, forcing his considerable girth past the band of muscle, Isabela hisses loudly.

  "Isabela," I stutter, almost afraid to speak. "I'm sorry. I'm--" Her head drops, cheek pressed to the ground as she strains against him, the muscles in her back flexing and bowing. Garrett grunts in time to his thrusts, her awful mewling spurring him on. With a lusty growl, Garrett grips her hips and yanks her back while slamming into her. Her scream pierces right through me. “You’re hurting her!” He ignores me, driving ever forward, stretching her, tearing her, merciless. Isabela shrieks. “Stop hurting her!" I cry out again. "Fucker!”

  He finally meets my eyes as he bends over her back to slides a hand around her neck, then up to her jaw, where he's able to force her head up to look at me. Tears have made a mess of her face, webs of hair clinging to her cheeks. Garrett pounds her with renewed force, each brutal thrust sending a shock through her body, making her gasps sound as sharp as a slap. "Then tell me you're sorry. Apologize to me."

  "I'm sorry. Brother. I'm sorry." My eyes grow hot and blur to see her in pain, to hear her whimpers.

  "Good. That's good." I can't tell if his murmurs are meant for me or her after he drops his gaze to where their bodies meet, but he does slow his pace, drawing his cock out and sheathing it again in an almost tender manner. "Tell you what, Carver. I'll let you change your mind. Just this once."

  "Wha, what? What do you mean?"

  "You can finish Isabela's dare. She wants a cock inside her. She doesn't care whose." He pulls out with a  _plop_.

  Isabela peers up at me, her dark eyes still reflecting green fire. "I want you," she whispers seductively, trailing her fingernails up the inside of my thigh, causing my cock to twitch.

  "I...I, uh..." It's all so fucked up. She trails her touch down my other leg. "O-Okay," I agree shakily, telling myself that I can be gentle with her, unlike my brother. Isabela turns around, keeping to her hands and knees, and lines up the slit of her sex with the tip of my cock. My breath hitches. "I--Garrett--I still can't move."

  Garrett shrugs. "You don't really need to."

  Isabela pushes back, sheathing me. "Oh! Oh Maker--oh, fuck--" I glide right in. So hot. So wet. I've never felt anything like it. As she begins to move, I moan. I can't help it, and I try. My eyes shut as I try to hold out against the pleasure, clenching every muscle I know, but I'm unraveling already. Fuck. It's good, so good.

  I hear Garrett laugh. "She's too skilled for you, Brother. Even so, I thought you'd last longer than this." When I open my eyes, I see Garrett is sitting on his haunches on the other end of Isabela, jerking himself as he watches. 

  She tosses her head, peeking at me from over her shoulder with a toying smile. She leans away, leaving only the head of my cock inside, then begins tormenting me with slow, gyrating movements. "You're so hard," she purrs. "I love it."

  "Isabela," I groan. 

  "Come in me. Carver. I need it. I need you. Come inside."

  "Yes," I gasp, not that there's a choice, but I pretend there is because the way she's talking is every dirty fantasy I've had. Her hips plunge down, making me cry out. "Coming! Fuck, I'm--" My body tenses, balls drawing up like its emptying everything I've got in them. Pleasure surges through me as I jet inside of her. "Fuck, fuck," I chant, losing focus on the room around me. As I'm coming down from the euphoric high, the soft, slick walls of Isabela's sex constrict and tighten around me. The sensation makes me shiver, and Isabela chuckles softly, then lifts her hips so that I slide free of her. 

  "Mmm, oh, you were so pent up," she says, her hand vanishing between her legs. I see a peek of her fingers slipping into her folds, then the wet, sloppy sound of my spend being used to pleasure herself.

  "So am I," Garrett says, still twisting his hand around his cock. "Have mine, sweetheart." Isabela's eyes glint mischievously as she opens her mouth, letting Garrett unload rope after rope of cum onto her face, striping her pink tongue. He takes deep, shuddering breaths of relief, watching with approval when Isabela licks her lips and swallows. I’m seething when he looks at me with a glowing, satisfied smile. “Your turn.”

   My body slackens like the phantom binds holding me have been cut, allowing me to move my arms and legs again. I slouch forward, weakened by the intensity of my orgasm. “Then we're done. The game is over. Lose my invitation to the next one." I'm shaking. Half of it from rage. The only thing stopping me from throwing the punch Garrett's smug face sorely needs is my guilt. As much as I hate him for this, in the end, I partook. I indulged. And I enjoyed it. So I turn my back to him instead and reach for the tent flap, eager to distance myself from them and what I've done.

   “Ah. Carver. Penalty first.”

   I spin to face Garrett. “Shut up! Just shut up, for once! This isn’t a _game_ anymore!”

   “Of course it’s a game,” Garrett says lightly. “Everything is. And as usual, I won.”

   “Where’s Isabela?” I ask suddenly, noticing that Rivaini is gone.

   “Gone. She got what she came for. The rest is between you and me.”

   “I hope she realizes what a piece of shit you are," I sneer at him.

   He's amused. "While this has been more fun than I thought it would, I have a busy schedule ahead of me so let's no drag this out. You're going to answer my question now.” I stare at him a long moment, then shake my head. When I try to reach for the flap again, my body doesn’t obey. "You're going to give me what I want,” Garrett says, his breath hot on my neck. “It’s the only way this ends for you.”

  My nostrils flare as I drag in air, trying to slow my wild pulse. I don’t have a choice. Again. “What. Do. You. Want.” I grind out.

 “Tell me what Meredith is plotting for the anniversary gala. I know she schemes to undermine me, and I won't give her the satisfaction. "

 I laugh deliriously. “Meredith? Knight-Commander of the Templars? How the hell would I know; I’ve never met her before. As if a dirty refugee would get invited to any snooty ball!"

 Garrett frowns, not saying anything for a while. Contemplating. “You’re a templar, Carver. Remember.”

  “You never were funny. Don't try now.”

 Garrett gnashes his teeth irritably, muttering vulgarities to himself. He pulls on his loose shirt and yanks on pants. Seeing a pair of trousers reminds me of how exposed and vulnerable I am. _I still can’t believe he used magic on me like this_. Garrett tries to smooth down his hair against his palm, as if clothes and less bedhead would make any of this seem normal. “The Isabela you were valiantly trying to protect? That was a demon of Desire.”

 Ridiculous! I glare at him. “You must think me really stupid. I know when I'm awake. This is real.”

 “This can be the Fade and you can still be stupid,” Garrett remarks with contempt.

  "Asshole."

  The tendon in Garrett's neck stands out. “Cute. This isn’t the real Deep Roads, Carver. It’s just what we remember of it, twisted by the Fade.” I stare at him in stubborn silence until he scrubs a hand over his face in aggravation. “I don’t have all bloody night to convince you.”

 He slaps the tent flap aside and ducks out. It isn’t long until he returns with another man, one I’ve never seen before. A fact that makes me distinctly uncomfortable. “Because he isn’t a mage, Hawke,” the young man is saying as he ducks inside the tent after Garrett. He has wheat-colored hair woven into a single braid, a prominent nose, and long chin. “A sleeping mind requires coaxing. You know this. You did as much for me.”

 “Who are you?” I demand. “You’re not with the expedition.”

 “I need to find out what Meredith has planned for tonight,” Garrett says, impatiently crossing his arms. “And I’m running out of time to do it. Make him to tell me.”

 “Did you perform the spell as I taught it to you?” The young man asks Garrett while ignoring me, even though he’s looking straight at me. I notice he has soft hazel eyes.

 “Of course. We both drank, he agreed to the contract. The compulsion has been working. But he can't tell me anything useful--”

  " --if he doesn't remember who he is," the stranger finishes for him, nodding. "Yes. It's the greatest flaw of the mundane mind. Unfortunately, I am still a novice at this myself."

 “Are you a mage?” I ask, shifting my gaze suspiciously between them.

 He looks around the cramped space instead of answering. “Perhaps a change of scenery. My master teaches that trauma is a reliable way to jar the conscious mind.”

 “I’m not going anywhere with you!” I shout, sick of being treated as invisible, and--admittingly--growing concerned there could be truth to Garrett’s claim. Could this really be the Fade? Was Isabela a demon? Am I actually a templar under Knight-Commander Meredith? I can't begin to conceive of why I would betray my family to do such a thing.

 Garrett begins fastening the buttons on the front of his tunic, almost as an excuse to not look at either of us. “When we were looking for a way to return to the surface, my brother and I got into a fight. He… fell into a ravine." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "Accidentally, of course. He was lost down there. I had to leave him behind.”

 “Perfect,” the stranger says.

 “What?” It’s so incredulous, I smile awkwardly at my brother. “That never happened. And you wouldn’t if it did. Garrett?” He doesn't look at me.

  The man leans down to place a fingertip against my forehead. “Go there.”

 The ground cracks, releasing cold, dead air into the tent. It howls viciously in my ears. The tent begins shaking violently, threatening to uproot and be blown away.

  I look for Garrett wildly, suddenly frightened. The pulse of his staff shrinks, growing fainter until it winks out of existence. “Brother!” I cry out, just as the ground splits open beneath me. My heart thrashes in panic. "Don't leave me here!"

My scream cuts short as I plummet into eternal darkness.


End file.
